Waxing Loves Company
by Irrepressable
Summary: Seeking to placate Clara after a particularly draining adventure, the Doctor arranges for them to spend the day at a spa, where he learns a particularly hairy lesson. Sequel to Time Lords Don't Take Bubble Baths


**Believe it or not, this whole thing started with another conversation between me and my mother. That is why I've been up all night writing for you, readers, in hopes that you will enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

Clara Oswald was still annoyed with the Doctor. It had started out when he had invaded her bathroom, stolen her razor, an exposed himself to her, but there were other reasons. Well, he hadn't _meant_ to expose himself to her- the fluffy robe sort of came undone when he had tripped. She still wouldn't tell him what brand of razors she used. She was still irked with him. Her irritation had grown over their last few adventures, especially after the events of a trip to some tiny, off-the-map town in middle of the Ozarks in 1963. Admittedly, she was almost reluctant to go along with him this time, but she just couldn't say no to the Doctor's puppy dog eyes. Well, that and she was too much of a control freak to say goodbye without it absolutely being on her terms. She didn't want to say goodbye. So there she was, facing the Doctor with her arms over her chest.

"You're still upset about what happened last time?" the bowtied Doctor observed. "It wasn't that bad, and we still got to see it."

"Wasn't that bad?" Clara exclaimed, " _Wasn't that bad_? You take me to some obscure town in the Ozarks where less than half the town has indoor plumming-"

"In their defense, they kept their outhouses very well-maintained."

"-to see some supposedly spectacular event that only happens once every two thousand years, and when we go to town, this preacher walks up to us and tells us that we're 'living in sin'."

"I thought he was harmless."

"Then, you get distracted by something shiny and run off!"

"I did not! It wasn't _that_ shiny."

"Those two brothers with only about thirteen teeth between the two of them invite you to drink with them and you're gone for _hours_!"

"Dwayne and Wayne asked so nicely, and it was _very_ good moonshine."

"While you're off getting drunk, someone sneaks up behind me and knocks me out! Next thing I remember, I wake up next morning tied up next to you with the preacher from before trying to _marry_ us!"

"Clara, I was there. I-"

"His _wife_ had a shotgun! And then that preacher said that he would take our firstborn child away from us and give it to his wife because she couldn't have any! If Dwayne and Wayne hadn't saved us, I don't even want to _think_ about what could have happened!"

Having finished venting, Clara stood there, teeth clenched and chest heaving. Her fists were at her sides, balled up tight. The Docter gave her an understanding look and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Clara, look at me." the Doctor instructed.

The human took a deep, deep breath and looked at her floppy-haired friend. "Even if Dwayne and Wayne hadn't shown up," the Doctor said, "We would have gotten out alive. You know why? Because we're both too clever and too stubborn to let things end that way."

The Doctor lowered his hand from Clara's shoulder and beamed. "You wouldn't let them kill me, I wouldn't let them kill you, and I would _never_ let them take our firstborn child from us."

Clara froze and said, "Wait, what?"

The Doctor grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "That sounded a lot better in my head."

He turned around and declared, "Moving on! Today, as way of an apology, I have something very relaxing in mind!"

The Time Lord turned to look the human directly in the face. "Today," the Doctor declared, "We are going to a spa!"

Clara grimaced. "This isn't going to be an alien spa where I'll have to get a glue facial or something, is it?"

"No, Clara Oswald." the Doctor replied as he went over to the console and accessed the controls. "We're going to an ordinary, 22nd century spa! Everything you'd expect from a 21st century spa, only without the risk of hepatitis!"

"How do you get hepatitis at a spa?" Clara asked

"You don't want to know." the Doctor said. "Ah ha! We're here!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When the Doctor and Clara entered the spa, the entire area was white. Squeaky-clean white, not a stain at all. The receptionist was an albino! The woman had the right half of her pale head shaved, while the hair on the left side was shoulder-length. "Hello!" the receptionist said cheerfully. "Welcome to the Van Weiss Health and Beauty Center! Do you have an appointment?"

"Oh, yes." the Doctor said. He seemed to pull his psychic paper out of nowhere and held it up for the woman to see. "I'm the Doctor and this is Clara Oswald."

The albino woman examined the piece of paper for a moment and then smiled once again. "Oh, you're the winners! Congratulations! Just sign in and select the services you wish to use and you will be shown in!"

Two soothing silver screens appeared right in front of the Doctor and Clara, each listing the options availible. Clara went over the options before selecting what services she wished to recieve. The Doctor stared at the screen. "Are you going to get a facial?" the Doctor asked.

"Uh-huh." Clara nodded, still going over the menu

The Doctor returned his attention to the list of services. One caught his eye. He turned to Clara and asked, "Waxing is hair removal, right?"

"Yep." Clara replied, still not looking away from the menu.

The Doctor thought this over. He took a look at the 'most popular' list and saw that the 'Brazilian' was number one. Well, that was decided. "I'm getting a Brazilian!" the Doctor declared.

Clara's head whipped around as she gawked at the lanky Time Lord. "Doctor, you don't want a Brazilian." Clara said.

"Why not?" The Doctor asked.

"Well you," Clara paused. She thought about giving him the details, but then she remembered her dearly departed razor, her used-up aromatherapy candles, and the disturbing dreams she'd had after getting an obstruction-free view of the the Doctor's freshly shaven, silky smooth nether regions. So she didn't tell him. "You just won't like it."

"That's what you said about the moonshine." the Doctor said. "I liked it. Everything turned out fine. Well, aside from the crazy preacher and his homicidal wife. There is no preacher with a homicidal wife here. I'm getting a Brazilian."

"You won't enjoy your time here if you're walking around after a fresh Brazilian." Clara insisted. "I probably wouldn't."

"That's all right." the Doctor said with his usual crazy smile. "I'm getting it done last!"

Clara shrugged and returned her attention to her menu to finish selecting her options. As she finished her selection, she ominously said,"I warned you."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Doctor had decided to start everything out with a massage. That seemed like an excellent way to start things. He had been feeling a bit stiff lately. He'd made sure to include that in the information requested when he'd input his selection. THe instructions, next... ah. He slipped off the comfortable white robe he had been given and put it in a box that was, quite helpfully, labeled 'used robes go here'. He then took a soft towel, laid on the table, and covered his waist. "All right." He said. "It's massage time. Let's get massage-y."

The masseuse was an olive-skinned woman who, to be frank, had rather cold hands. She also didn't talk much, despite the Doctor's repeated efforts to engage her in a conversation. "-and that's why you should never hand-feed chips and fish sauce to a heavyset Portugese woman named Brian."

The Doctor was finally silent as he felt the masseuse working out a knot he hadn't known he had. That silence didn't last for long. "You know, you're drifting too far to the left. If you press too hard there, I'll start making noises. Not laughing. Hiccupping. I'm not ticklish there. It just makes me hiccup uncontrollably. Same thing with my feet. If I start, it'll take hours for me to stop, providing I don't get my hands on some guavas first. Those seem to help for some reason. Especially when they-"

"Done!" the masseuse declared a bit more loudly than needed.

She walked across the room, grabbed a clean robe, and flung it at the Doctor before leaving the room. As she walked away, the Doctor could fainly hear her grumbling about crazy skinny men. With a shrug, he put the clean robe on and went to his next destination. It was time for a pedicure!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The Doctor sat throught the process as still as he could, but it wasn't easy. He was, as always, brimming with energy. By this time, he had fidgeted so many times that the pedicurist finally grew frustrated and jabbed him in the center of his sole with a blunt nail file. He immediately began to hiccup violently. On and on this went before, finally, someone handed him a guava fruit, which he ate. When the Doctor ate the fruit, his hiccups quickly subsided. The pedicurist sighed and asked, "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"I think it's the smell of this chair." the Doctor said. "It's making me fidgety."

The peducurist looked about ready to smack himself. Or smack the Doctor. Whatever the case, the pedicurist said, "Just hold still."

"I don't know." the Doctor said. "You _did_ make me hiccup. That's kind of unprofes- ooh, could you do that again?"

One skilled foot massage later, the placated Doctor sat completely still and allowed the pedicurist to ply his trade. Just as the Doctor was halfway through _Love Shack_ , making his voice higher for the female parts of the song, the pedicurist finished working on the lanky time traveller's feet. "Done already?" the Doctor questioned.

"Yes, we're done." the pedicurist said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"All right, then!" the Doctor said cheerfully, "I'm off!"

The Time Lord adjusted the tie to his robe, making sure that it was secure, before heading off, whistling out the remainder of _Love Shack_.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Next came the facial. How exciting! Once again, he was reclined in a comfortable chair. An aesthetician with dark skin and bleached hair was currently cleansing his face with soothing wipes. "You have very good skin!" the aesthetician said, impressed. "You've hardly any blemishes at all! What's your routine?"

"Oh, I just wash, shave, moisturize." the Doctor replied.

"What moisturizer do you use?" the aesthetician asked.

"I just use Clara's." the Doctor said. He didn't think that Clara was aware that he had 'borrowed' her moisturizer. She probably would take longer to find out since it was from her bathroom onboard the TARDIS and not the one in her flat.

"Clara's?" the aestheticion questioned. "I've never heard of- _oh_."

The aesthetician seemed to realize something and laughed. She looked at the Doctor with mirth in her eyes and said, "Believe it or not, you're not the first man to come in here to admit that he's used his girlfriend's skin care products."

"What- Clara? She's not my girlfriend." the Doctor hastily set the woman straight. "She's just a very good friend."

"A friend who lets you borrow her moisturizer?" the aesthetician questioned, still amused.

"A _very_ good friend." The Doctor stated finitely.

After a skin analysis full of meaningless questions, it came time for the steaming and exfoliating. The Doctor really, really liked the steaming and exfoliating. What he liked even more was what came next: the facial massage. It was then and there that he decided that, before today, it had been far too long since his last massage and he should probably do it more often. But he probably wouldn't. Not unless he could stop hiccupping whenever someone poked him in the wrong spots. It was hard to sit or lay still for a massage when you were constantly hiccupping. The aesthetician, feeling the tension in the Doctor's facial muscles, calmly said in a semi-serious tone, "Relax. You'll give yourself wrinkles."

"Wrinkles or not, I'll still look very good for my age." the Doctor replied, amused.

"How old are you?" the aesthetician asked

"Over a thousand." the Doctor replied.

The aesthetician laughed and said, "Funny. I get it. You look younger than you actually are. A thousand. Honestly!"

When the Doctor didn't say anything, the aesthetician took that as her cue to continue the facial massage. When, to the Doctor's dismay, the facial massage was over, he was delighted to find out that something really _cool_ would be next. The aesthetician applied a rather repulsive-looking goo to the Doctor's face. "It's a moisturizing facial mask." the woman explained. "Now don't talk. Just wait a little while."

For the next twelve minutes and forty seven seconds, the aestheticion provided the Doctor with a soothing scalp massage. After she removed the mask, the aestheticion started putting stuff on the Doctor's face- "Toner, serums, moisturizer, sunscreen. It's all good for you."

When it was time to go on to his next appointment, the Doctor was almost sad to leave the delightful aesthetician. Still, he put on his happiest smile and waved goodbye. He decided that he liked facials, especially when they were done by people like- he checked the aesthetician's name tag- Natasha.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

At last came the part where he finaly recieved the not-so-long-awaited Brazilian. He was in a room right next to the massage room where he had started. He was exposed, waiting, waiting for it to start. The aesthetician, a middle-aged woman with blonde pigtails, stood in between his legs. Finally, she started applying something to him with a stick. "Wow, that's warm!" the Doctor commented. "Just be careful down there, all right?"

"Don't worry, sir." the woman drawled, "I'm a professional."

"A professional? Oh, good." the Doctor said, still nervous.

When the woman stopped applying the hot wax to him, the Time Lord prepared himself to wait for the hair to somehow disappear. When he saw the woman reaching for a strip of paper, the Doctor asked, "Say, what are you doing with that?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

In the next room over, Clara Oswald was recieving her well-deserved massage. She would forgive the Doctor, she decided. She always did. Sometimes it took a while, but she always did. This whole spa day thing had been a very good idea, she decided. She would have to thank the Doctor next time she saw him. With that thought out of mind, she returned her attention to the relaxing sensations on her body. Suddenly, an agonized scream tore through the air. Clara, to her credit, did not flinch. She _had_ warned him.

When they left the spa, the Doctor was visibly upset. On the entire walk back to his ship, and for several days afterwards, inside said ship, the lanky Time Lord walked funny. The TARDIS thought that it was the most hilarious thing to happen to her thief in centuries.


End file.
